In many ways, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is a straightforward mystery-thriller. The basics of the plot are simple: a girl disappeared forty years ago on an island, and since the bridge leading to and from the island was blocked, it was impossible for her to have run away, so the family assumes she was killed and the body disposed of; everyone who was present that day is a suspect; an investigator, Mikael Blomkvist, is brought in to untangle the mystery; and through some twists and turns, he does just that. So the structure of the story is by no means original—it essentially could be an Agatha Christie or Arthur Conan Doyle story—and it even dips into the melodramatic quite regularly. If it weren’t enough that there is a murderer in the family, it turns out that there is actually a serial killer on the loose. And not only that, there are Nazis, too. By the time the villain is revealed, the story has many elements of the ridiculous about it, and as the final showdown between killer and investigator plays out, this could easily be no more than a commonplace thriller whose only purpose is to entertain for a couple hours and then be quietly forgotten. Yet it manages to be more than that.
I have not read the Stieg Larsson novels on which this movie and its inevitable sequels are based, but I know they were huge international bestsellers, and like many huge international bestsellers, I’ve heard from those who have read them that these books are not very well written. One friend told me that the core plot was interesting, but the novel reads like a rough draft in serious need of revision. So the question arises: why are these books so popular? Of course, there is the argument to be made that the average reader is not particularly interested in literary merit, which I think is true. But why would so many Americans be drawn to these Swedish mysteries when there are so many James Pattersons and John Grishams to choose from? Surely, there must be something original going on. And, indeed, there is. The primary element that lifts this story above the crowd is the title character, Lisbeth Salander.
She presents a harsh exterior to the world: dyed black hair, cropped so she can wear a Mohawk if she chooses; multiple body piercings; black leather goth/punk clothing; and, of course, tattoos. When faced with situations that would crush the spirits of many people, she fights back, allowing her intense anger to pour forth. Her past is never fully revealed, but there are hints: though in her twenties, she is a ward of the state, required to report regularly to an appointed guardian or be institutionalized. She is brought into the murder investigation because she is a brilliant computer hacker. Like much of the rest of the story, Lisbeth could devolve into melodrama and be little more than a sum of sensational characteristics, but she does not. Part of what keeps her fascinating is the mystery of who she is and how she became the woman she has become. Despite her outer strength, there remains a vulnerable core. Yes, she is covered in tattoos, metal studs, and leather; but beneath those decorations is a tiny, vulnerable woman. Yes, she cleverly seeks revenge against those who wrong her, but behind her anger is a lonely girl.
Lisbeth Salander is a fascinating character, and director David Fincher and screenwriter Steven Zaillian for the most part handle her well, choosing not to reveal too much. Rooney Mara plays the character superbly, showing hints of what’s going on beneath the surface, but holding back more than she reveals. A few key moments truly stand out. Lisbeth’s strength is demonstrated when she fights off a thief on a subway escalator. Her vulnerability is shown during a brutal rape scene. Her intelligence comes through as she pieces together clues to unravel a forty-year old mystery. Her sexuality emerges several times in both overt and subtle ways. And her deep desire to both connect with humanity and protect herself from the pain of human connections emerges slowly and touchingly. She is as complex a character as any in recent movies. I’m sure Lisbeth Salander is why Larsson’s novels are so popular.
Beyond the primary appeal of Lisbeth Salander, the film has one other aspect that makes it stand out beyond a simple melodramatic mystery story. A common thread runs through the story of the vanished girl, the family on the island, the subplot about corrupt businessmen, and how Lisbeth became the young woman she now is: the idea that the past affects the present. We are haunted by our pasts. Those spirits may be something as outrageous as Nazi ties in the family or as commonplace as childhood abuse, but those past events matter. This is a large and interesting theme. I am reminded of another work of Scandinavian literature: Henrik Ibsen’s Ghosts. Again, from what I’ve heard about the books, I think it’s safe to say that Larsson is no Ibsen, but the theme is certainly worth exploring, and it adds resonance to what could be a simplistic thriller.
The movie has some flaws, certainly. The plot is more or less beside the point, though it’s interesting enough that it maintained my attention. After the primary mystery is solved, the movie continues for too long, essentially a full additional act beyond the standard three-act plot structure. One element that stood out to me as distracting was the difficulty of handling language. The story is set in Sweden, but for this Hollywood production, the actors all speak English. Many newspaper headlines and shop signs appear in Swedish, but the characters do Google searches in English, and even a tattoo is written in English when logically it would be in Swedish. Whether to use accents or not must be a challenging decision for this type of movie. I generally think the best approach is what they did in Amadeus: though the story takes place in Austria and the characters would logically speak German, the actors, British and American, all adopt a similar standard, somewhat formal, American accent. That would have worked here. Instead, we have most of the cast putting on Swedish accents, including Americans Rooney Mara and Robin Wright, and Swede Stellan Skarsgård, but Brit Daniel Craig sounds pretty much the same as when he plays James Bond. This lack of consistency was distracting. Though I don’t think they should have changed the setting, I think the language hurdle could have been handled more gracefully. But despite these weaknesses, the film is well made and engaging.
One final point is worth addressing: this story has already been adapted to film. There is a Swedish version from a couple years ago. After seeing the American movie, I decided to go back to the previous adaptation to compare. In most ways, the two are the same since the basic details of plot are the same. There are some differences, of course, but many of those differences are inconsequential. On a whole, I’d say the American version is more skillfully made as far as the quality of filmmaking, the cinematography, editing, and so forth. Also, nearly everyone in the American film is very attractive, while few of those in the Swedish film are. A middle-aged, wrinkly magazine publisher who looks like she may have cut her own hair is recast as the beautiful Robin Wright with no locks out of place. Even Lisbeth’s hacker associate, who is fat, hairy and looks like he rarely is away from his computer long enough to shower is far more attractive in the American film. The Swedish version of Mikael Blomkvist looks like a typical middle-aged man, including sagging, acne-scarred skin, which leads to a feeling that he may be in over his head and could wind up being killed by the murderer he’s trying to catch. In the American version, Mikael is played by Daniel Craig, James Bond himself, so when he is supposedly in danger, it doesn’t feel real because we know that James Bond always escapes from the villain in the final moments.
The most significant difference has to be in the portrayal of Lisbeth. While Noomi Rapace is certainly a beautiful woman, she is flat chested and does not have the toned muscles of a Hollywood starlet. She is much more androgynous than Rooney Mara, who presents a more overtly sexual version of Lisbeth. Overall, the American Lisbeth is more extreme, less subtle, than the Swedish version. When she is hassled in the subway, she fights back like an action star. When she is raped, the extreme nature of the violation is graphically portrayed. But the American film pulls back at a key moment. Toward the end of the story, in the Swedish version, Lisbeth is faced with a life and death decision. In the American version, the decision is out of Lisbeth’s hands. Denying Lisbeth the chance to make a clear choice feels like a copout on the part of the American filmmakers. They have worked hard to portray the complexity of the character, to hint at the past that she struggles to deal with, to show both a vulnerable and a strong human; then when a moment of action would clearly tell us who she is deep down, they remove the ability to act from Lisbeth’s control. One could debate what choice she would have made, but the Swedish version actually forces Lisbeth to choose. Though in many ways I prefer Mara’s take on the character, I think the Rapace version has a slight edge in the way it more honestly handles the key moment toward the end.
Ultimately, both films are worth seeing as they take what is a hackneyed basic plot and elevate it to something more interesting and less forgettable.
Showing posts with label James Bond. Show all posts
Showing posts with label James Bond. Show all posts
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Sunday, July 31, 2011
The Trip
Probably my favorite new movie I’ve seen this summer is The Trip. This is a British movie that was evidently first a six-episode BBC television show and then was reedited into a feature film. This seems like a strange way to make a movie, as there must have been an hour or so of material from the sitcom cut out. But it works well. I’m curious to see what was included in the original show that was left out of the movie, but I don’t feel like anything is missing. As a film, it works well.
The story is about English actor/comedian Steve Coogan (played by English actor/comedian Steve Coogan), who is taking a road trip through the north of England, visiting restaurants and bed & breakfasts for an article he’s been contracted to write. He was planning on taking his American girlfriend, but she decided they need a break and has returned to America. So instead, Steve takes his friend, the Welsh actor/comedian Rob Brydon (played by Welsh actor/comedian Rob Brydon). The plot is really nothing more than these two traveling around, talking about what they would like to do in their careers, and working on various impressions. Yet there’s so much more going on.
The most immediately enjoyable parts of the movie feature the two competing with each other in performances. In one scene that will surely be remembered and replayed again and again, they both work on Michael Caine impressions. In another, they discuss wanting to make a period drama à la Braveheart or Rob Roy, and the conversation devolves into a hilarious bit about when a troupe of soldiers should rise before battle, whether they need to rise at daybreak or if maybe they could sleep in a little and get going by 9:30 following a continental breakfast. There are several set pieces along these lines that stand out and made me laugh incredibly hard. Before watching the movie, I had heard clips on the radio and seen some of the Michael Caine sequence in ads, and I feared that maybe I’d already experienced the best the movie had to offer, and though those scenes are some of the best, there are many, many more throughout.
What elevates this movie, however, is the quiet moments intertwined with the hilarity. Steve Coogan is a talented comic actor who has yet to really break out in America. My understanding is that in Britain, he is fairly well known for having played an iconic character for years on television. But in Hollywood, he’s still relatively unknown. I first saw him in the movie 24 Hour Party People (directed by Michael Winterbottom, who also directed The Trip), which is a fantastic film, and Coogan is great in it. I remember around that time hearing that he was going to break out and become an A-list actor as a result of that movie. The next thing I remember seeing him in was Jim Jarmusch’s Coffee and Cigarettes, another movie I loved. In this one, Coogan played Steve Coogan, a self-important actor who is hitting the big time following his performance in 24 Hour Party People. He meets with Alfred Molina and barely has time to spare for someone at Molina’s level of celebrity, which I found amusing in part because I would consider Molina more famous than Coogan, and now, years later, Coogan still hasn’t achieved the fame that the Steve of Coffee and Cigarettes seemed to feel was his due. I saw Coogan play Steve Coogan again in Winterbottom’s meta-adaptation of Tristram Shandy, A Cock and Bull Story. And for the third time, Coogan plays a version of himself in The Trip. In between these, he has been in bigger Hollywood movies, like Tropic Thunder and The Other Guys, but he has still never managed to become a household name in America. And this is the basis for the Steve character in The Trip. He is an actor who has been somewhat typecast as his television character in Britain and desperately wants to break out in Hollywood, but despite a decade of making movies, he has yet to reach the level he feels he’s entitled to.
The issue at the heart of The Trip is identity. Who is Steve Coogan? What kind of person is he? What kind of actor? Ultimately, the movie portrays him again and again as someone who desperately wishes to be something and someone he isn’t. Of course, actors make their living being people they aren’t, and that thread runs through the whole movie as both Steve and Rob attempt to be the better version of Michael Caine or of James Bond or of a Bond villain. Actors are supposed to not be themselves. But in The Trip, Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon are playing Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon. And as the two interact, the differences between them emerge. Rob is married and has a baby. He is so aware of what makes him successful, that he has developed an iPhone app for one of his silly character voices. He’s content with his life and with his career. He’s a comedian. He’s an impressionist. He spends nearly as much of his time speaking in other people’s voices as he does his own, but he seems comfortable. He is most himself when he is Hugh Grant. Steve, on the other hand, is divorced. He chases younger women. He is a father but rarely talks to his children. He wishes he had the career of Michael Sheen. He thinks he has not been granted his due. He is discontented with his life and seems uncomfortable being himself. But, like Rob, Steve’s identity comes through most clearly and he seems the most comfortable when he is riffing on impressions and joking around. He is, deep down, a comedian, but he wishes he were a great dramatic actor. His failure to be himself, to accept who he truly is, is his great tragedy.
The Trip is fully worth watching solely on the merits of the comic scenes, but the exploration of identity lifts the film to another level. Steve Coogan, the character, is a modern Salieri, and Steve Coogan, the actor, plays the role so perfectly that it is clear he is a very talented dramatic actor as well as a talented comedian. I’m sure Steve Coogan could be a star on the level of Michael Sheen, but I hope he is content being Steve Coogan. That’s certainly good enough.
The story is about English actor/comedian Steve Coogan (played by English actor/comedian Steve Coogan), who is taking a road trip through the north of England, visiting restaurants and bed & breakfasts for an article he’s been contracted to write. He was planning on taking his American girlfriend, but she decided they need a break and has returned to America. So instead, Steve takes his friend, the Welsh actor/comedian Rob Brydon (played by Welsh actor/comedian Rob Brydon). The plot is really nothing more than these two traveling around, talking about what they would like to do in their careers, and working on various impressions. Yet there’s so much more going on.
The most immediately enjoyable parts of the movie feature the two competing with each other in performances. In one scene that will surely be remembered and replayed again and again, they both work on Michael Caine impressions. In another, they discuss wanting to make a period drama à la Braveheart or Rob Roy, and the conversation devolves into a hilarious bit about when a troupe of soldiers should rise before battle, whether they need to rise at daybreak or if maybe they could sleep in a little and get going by 9:30 following a continental breakfast. There are several set pieces along these lines that stand out and made me laugh incredibly hard. Before watching the movie, I had heard clips on the radio and seen some of the Michael Caine sequence in ads, and I feared that maybe I’d already experienced the best the movie had to offer, and though those scenes are some of the best, there are many, many more throughout.
What elevates this movie, however, is the quiet moments intertwined with the hilarity. Steve Coogan is a talented comic actor who has yet to really break out in America. My understanding is that in Britain, he is fairly well known for having played an iconic character for years on television. But in Hollywood, he’s still relatively unknown. I first saw him in the movie 24 Hour Party People (directed by Michael Winterbottom, who also directed The Trip), which is a fantastic film, and Coogan is great in it. I remember around that time hearing that he was going to break out and become an A-list actor as a result of that movie. The next thing I remember seeing him in was Jim Jarmusch’s Coffee and Cigarettes, another movie I loved. In this one, Coogan played Steve Coogan, a self-important actor who is hitting the big time following his performance in 24 Hour Party People. He meets with Alfred Molina and barely has time to spare for someone at Molina’s level of celebrity, which I found amusing in part because I would consider Molina more famous than Coogan, and now, years later, Coogan still hasn’t achieved the fame that the Steve of Coffee and Cigarettes seemed to feel was his due. I saw Coogan play Steve Coogan again in Winterbottom’s meta-adaptation of Tristram Shandy, A Cock and Bull Story. And for the third time, Coogan plays a version of himself in The Trip. In between these, he has been in bigger Hollywood movies, like Tropic Thunder and The Other Guys, but he has still never managed to become a household name in America. And this is the basis for the Steve character in The Trip. He is an actor who has been somewhat typecast as his television character in Britain and desperately wants to break out in Hollywood, but despite a decade of making movies, he has yet to reach the level he feels he’s entitled to.
The issue at the heart of The Trip is identity. Who is Steve Coogan? What kind of person is he? What kind of actor? Ultimately, the movie portrays him again and again as someone who desperately wishes to be something and someone he isn’t. Of course, actors make their living being people they aren’t, and that thread runs through the whole movie as both Steve and Rob attempt to be the better version of Michael Caine or of James Bond or of a Bond villain. Actors are supposed to not be themselves. But in The Trip, Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon are playing Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon. And as the two interact, the differences between them emerge. Rob is married and has a baby. He is so aware of what makes him successful, that he has developed an iPhone app for one of his silly character voices. He’s content with his life and with his career. He’s a comedian. He’s an impressionist. He spends nearly as much of his time speaking in other people’s voices as he does his own, but he seems comfortable. He is most himself when he is Hugh Grant. Steve, on the other hand, is divorced. He chases younger women. He is a father but rarely talks to his children. He wishes he had the career of Michael Sheen. He thinks he has not been granted his due. He is discontented with his life and seems uncomfortable being himself. But, like Rob, Steve’s identity comes through most clearly and he seems the most comfortable when he is riffing on impressions and joking around. He is, deep down, a comedian, but he wishes he were a great dramatic actor. His failure to be himself, to accept who he truly is, is his great tragedy.
The Trip is fully worth watching solely on the merits of the comic scenes, but the exploration of identity lifts the film to another level. Steve Coogan, the character, is a modern Salieri, and Steve Coogan, the actor, plays the role so perfectly that it is clear he is a very talented dramatic actor as well as a talented comedian. I’m sure Steve Coogan could be a star on the level of Michael Sheen, but I hope he is content being Steve Coogan. That’s certainly good enough.
Monday, June 27, 2011
X-Men: First Class
It just occurred to me that I haven’t written about X-Men: First Class yet. I guess I wanted to wait a day or two and then it slipped my mind. I’m not sure if that’s a comment on the movie itself, but maybe it is. Maybe that’s a common characteristic of this type of big blockbuster summer movie. And actually, as I think back on the other X-Men movies (I’ve watched all the previous ones), I don’t have any strong impressions. I basically remember finding them enjoyable enough (except that Wolverine one, which was definitely below my basic expectations for comic book movies, and my expectations are not that high). I can picture the characters more or less, but I’m having trouble thinking of a single scene from the first few X-Men movies. I really couldn’t describe the plots at this point other than the simple version: the good guys fight the bad guys.
It’s only been a few weeks since I saw the newest addition to the X-Men franchise, and I remember more about it than its predecessors, but my ultimate verdict is pretty much the same as for most of this type of movie: it’s fun and worth seeing but not especially memorable.
Here’s a bit more detail if you’re debating seeing it and for some reason you find my perspective influential.
The characters. There are too many characters to really get to know most of them in any detail, but they’re easy enough to keep straight because of their different mutant powers, unlike some movies where the mess of characters becomes impossible to untangle because they all look alike and act the same and have no particular distinguishing features.
The actors. I’ve read a lot of reviews that comment on how good Michael Fassbender and James McAvoy are in this movie. James McAvoy is fine. In everything I’ve seen him in, he’s fine, but he’s never really stood out to me as particularly exceptional. Michael Fassbender, on the other hand, is phenomenal. He’s intense, with a complex potion of emotions that really make the character engaging. Ultimately, I felt like the transition the character makes to become the villainous Magneto was a bit abrupt and obligatory, but still the performance made the movie.
The Setting. I liked the 1960s setting. I wonder now, however, what they’ll do in future installments. Will they continue in the ‘60s or jump around in time a bit? Will they make movies in the modern setting alongside more prequels? Another thing I’ve read a few times in reviews is that this film had a 1960s James Bond vibe to it, which I agree with, and that was part of the fun (I am a fan of Bond flicks, which are a lot like this type of comic book movie in also being entertaining but highly forgettable). Going back to Michael Fassbender: he would make a heck of a James Bond. I know that franchise is currently in some trouble due to financial difficulties at the studio, so it may be a few years before another one comes along. If they decide Daniel Craig is too old by the time they’re ready for another, Michael Fassbender would be a good choice as the next Bond.
Pace. The movie felt a bit too long. It dragged in the middle and picked back up by the end. I read that the director had said he liked having so many characters because when one story thread began to drag, he could switch to another one. But it seems a sign of trouble if any story threads are dragging, and sure enough that was a problem here, but not a huge one. The movie could have been tighter. And if they release an extended director’s cut, I suspect it will be best avoided.
In the end, this is a movie I might not bother watching again, extended director’s cut or not. And actually, I don’t think I’ve seen any of the previous X-Men movies more than once, so it’s likely that this will be one timer for me as well. Thor felt the same way. But that’s fine. Sometimes I really enjoy just sitting back and watching something that distracts me from my life for a couple of hours, even if I soon forget quite what happened in the story.
It’s only been a few weeks since I saw the newest addition to the X-Men franchise, and I remember more about it than its predecessors, but my ultimate verdict is pretty much the same as for most of this type of movie: it’s fun and worth seeing but not especially memorable.
Here’s a bit more detail if you’re debating seeing it and for some reason you find my perspective influential.
The characters. There are too many characters to really get to know most of them in any detail, but they’re easy enough to keep straight because of their different mutant powers, unlike some movies where the mess of characters becomes impossible to untangle because they all look alike and act the same and have no particular distinguishing features.
The actors. I’ve read a lot of reviews that comment on how good Michael Fassbender and James McAvoy are in this movie. James McAvoy is fine. In everything I’ve seen him in, he’s fine, but he’s never really stood out to me as particularly exceptional. Michael Fassbender, on the other hand, is phenomenal. He’s intense, with a complex potion of emotions that really make the character engaging. Ultimately, I felt like the transition the character makes to become the villainous Magneto was a bit abrupt and obligatory, but still the performance made the movie.
The Setting. I liked the 1960s setting. I wonder now, however, what they’ll do in future installments. Will they continue in the ‘60s or jump around in time a bit? Will they make movies in the modern setting alongside more prequels? Another thing I’ve read a few times in reviews is that this film had a 1960s James Bond vibe to it, which I agree with, and that was part of the fun (I am a fan of Bond flicks, which are a lot like this type of comic book movie in also being entertaining but highly forgettable). Going back to Michael Fassbender: he would make a heck of a James Bond. I know that franchise is currently in some trouble due to financial difficulties at the studio, so it may be a few years before another one comes along. If they decide Daniel Craig is too old by the time they’re ready for another, Michael Fassbender would be a good choice as the next Bond.
Pace. The movie felt a bit too long. It dragged in the middle and picked back up by the end. I read that the director had said he liked having so many characters because when one story thread began to drag, he could switch to another one. But it seems a sign of trouble if any story threads are dragging, and sure enough that was a problem here, but not a huge one. The movie could have been tighter. And if they release an extended director’s cut, I suspect it will be best avoided.
In the end, this is a movie I might not bother watching again, extended director’s cut or not. And actually, I don’t think I’ve seen any of the previous X-Men movies more than once, so it’s likely that this will be one timer for me as well. Thor felt the same way. But that’s fine. Sometimes I really enjoy just sitting back and watching something that distracts me from my life for a couple of hours, even if I soon forget quite what happened in the story.
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